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Victor Nikiforov is a very self aware man. He knows he’s a little ridiculous, a lot forgetful, and very in love with Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov. This last one interferes with another element of himself that he’s always been aware of. He’s gay. Fantastically so. But he’s so head over heels, absolutely smitten, madly in love with Yuuri, that every now and then he surprises himself with just how gay he is.


It’s gotten to the point that one enterprising young member of the victuuri fandom has taken it upon themselves to make a compilation video of all the moments Victor’s very gay for Yuuri.


(Which is always but these are fan favourites.)



Yuuri comes into shot as the camera turns on, bent over so he can get it into position.


“Hello, lovely viewers,” he says with a coy smile at the camera, instantly KOing about ninety-five percent of his audience. “We’re going to have some fun today and teach Victor how to pole dance. I have no idea how this is going to go to be honest. He’s pretty good at death drops and voguing, but I think that’s just because he’s angling to become king of the gays.”


“Elton John is king of the gays, muffin,” a voice says from off camera, making Yuuri jump and spin around.


The spin causes the camera to get an eyeful of his backside in booty shorts. The surviving five percent of the audience are taken out.


“I’m just a loyal subject,” Victor finishes with a smirk, coming into view along with a dance studio as Yuuri walks towards him.


“Who’s king of the bisexuals?” Yuuri asks him with a laugh.


“Freddie Mercury,” Victor says instantly. “And you’re their bisexual god.”


“Psh, shut up.”


Yuuri gently shoves Victor’s shoulder, but it’s clear from his blush and little smile that he’s pleased by the praise.


“Okay, now get into position,” Yuuri says, going into teacher mode as he walks over to one of the two poles set up.


“I love it when you get bossy with me.”


“Vitya, don’t make me come over there.”


“You say that like it’s supposed to deter me.”


Victor’s in a pair of booty shorts too, but where Yuuri’s are blue, his are hot pink. They’re also both in crop tops, long sleeved and loose with slash necks that occasionally fall off a beautiful shoulder. Victor’s is black and Yuuri’s is soft grey. It’s very cute how they’re matching and several viewers take to the comments to squeal about it.


“Okay so you want to get a firm grip on the pole,” Yuuri says, showing Victor the hold of his hands.


Victor copies, but Yuuri frowns.


“No, you’ll hurt your wrists like that.”


He crosses over to Victor and adjusts his hands slightly, his touch gentle. Victor’s not even watching what he’s doing, too busy at looking at Yuuri’s face instead, a besotted expression on his features.


“See?” Yuuri asks, and Victor snaps his concentration back to his hands.


“Oh, yes, very good.”


Yuuri rolls his eyes, knowing that Victor hasn’t really been paying attention, but walks back to his own pole regardless.


“Once you’re in position,” Yuuri’s says, placing his hands back on the pole. “You want to lift yourself up while keeping your body rigid.”


Yuuri lifts himself up effortlessly, then flips upside down. Victor splutters and his eyes go wide.


“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, staring as Yuuri does an upside down split before bringing his legs back together and lowering himself to the floor.


The comments are a series of cackles at how Victor seems to have temporarily jammed, like a bad printer, his jaw slack and stars in his eyes as he stands frozen, staring at Yuuri.


“Vitya, you didn’t even try,” Yuuri says, pouting at him.


“Sorry, muffin, you’re very distracting.”


“Excuses won’t help you.”


“How about a kiss?”


“Then you won’t learn your lesson.”


“Yuu- riiiii!”



Yuuri is painting their guest room. The camera comes on shaky and slightly out of focus, as though the person who grabbed it isn’t really paying attention to what they’re doing.


It isn’t hard to see why. Not when Yuuri’s stripped his t-shirt off and is now just in a pair of paint splatters jeans, his toned back muscles working as he stretches to reach a spot high up on the wall, balanced atop a step ladder.


Yuuri pauses his work with the roller, and bends to retrieve a water bottle sat on the highest step next to his foot. He tucks it into the crook of his arm and opens it one handed, making his arm muscles bulge slightly. Then he takes a long gulp, the action caught in profile so he looks like some kind of sports drink advert, all tanned, sweat shiny skin and perfectly toned torso as he swallows.


“The Lord God Jesus Christ has come into my house and punched me directly in the dick,” Victor whispers from behind the camera. “Mother Mary have mercy. Fuck me specifically I guess.”


It’s at that moment that Yuuri notices Victor and the camera. He arches an eyebrow at them both and Victor lets out a whimper that sounds like his soul has just permanently vacated his body.


“Vitya, filming me isn’t going to get this room finished. Grab a brush.”


“Can I grab you instead?”


“Not if you ever want to leave this room you can’t.”




“And by that I mean I’ll be leaving, you can stay.”


“Okay I’m getting a brush.”



It’s funniest when Victor’s thirst is combined with Yuri Plisetsky’s anger. This is captured in the compilation in the form of Yuri helping the couple move a new bed into their bedroom.


“What’s wrong with your old bed?” Yuri grumbles as he maneuvers the new headboard in through the door to the bedroom with Victor’s help.


“There was an unfortunate event,” Victor says with a sly smirk. “In fact it was more like a series of unfortunate events. Well unfortunate for the bed, I on the other hand was very happy.”


“Ew, gross, do not tell me about your disgusting sex life, I do not want to hear it.”


Yuuri is sat on the floor, screwing the frame of the bed together. He’s filming because he’s using the opportunity of being sat in one place to answer some of his fans’ questions. Victor and Yuri’s conversation just happens to be caught in a moment when Yuuri’s fallen silent to concentrate on getting a screw aligned right. Victor’s eyes go bright at the sight of Yuuri being so capable. Yuuri has his back to him and doesn’t notice.


“What’s your favourite song to dance to?” Yuuri reads off the screen when he’s got the screw in place. “Hm… tricky one, I have so many.”


Yuuri pauses to think, his lips going pouty. It’s adorable and Phichit comments saying he’s going to start selling never before seen photos of Yuuri’s thinking face to anyone who wants one. He gets flooded with offers.


“I’m currently working on a routine to Rihanna’s Love On The Brain ,” Yuuri says after a few moments. “I like it a lot, it’s sort of sad but also sensual because it’s RiRi. But I’ll probably get excited about whatever new routine I work on next too.”


“Yuuri,” Victor says, dragging his husband’s attention away from the questions to look over his shoulder. “What shall we do with the old bed’s boards? They’re too long to fit in the recycling.”


Victor’s holding two of the boards, frowning down at them.


“Give them here,” Yuuri says, unfolding himself from the floor and going over to Victor.


He takes the two boards, puts them together, then snaps them both across one knee at the same time.


Victor makes a choking noise and sways slightly on the spot, his eyes wide.


“I’m so gay,” he manages to say, making Yuuri raise an eyebrow at him in his usual exasperated but fond look.


“I’m aware of that, Vitya,” Yuuri says with a laugh, handing the broken boards back to Victor. “I doubt you’d have let me do what I did to you last night if you weren’t.”


“I am going to fucking murder you both,” Yuri says, shooting up from where he’d been crouched on the floor to work on the bed, brandishing a screwdriver.


“You always had such a way with words, Yura,” Victor says, not looking at the teen, seemingly more concerned with hooking a finger through the belt loop of Yuuri’s jeans to tug him closer.


“You’re a royal wank stain, old man.”


“So poetic.”



Victor obviously adores spoiling Yuuri. It’s lead to a series of comments hinting at Victor having a sugar daddy complex, and, well, they’re not entirely wrong.


Yuuri is the world’s crabbiest sugar baby though, and stoutly refuses to be bought things much of the time. But he knows his husband physically needs to spoil him sometimes, so allows shopping trips every now and then.


The entire clip has been a documentation of Victor’s thirst as Yuuri tried on various outfits, but the bit that makes the fan compilation is the last shop.


“Absolutely not, Vitya.”


“Oh just try it for me, muffin, we don’t have to buy it.”


“No! I’ll look ridiculous.”


“That is a dirty lie, you’ll look amazing. In fact you may single handedly murder half the internet so…”


“Not a good idea either way then.”


“Pleeeease, muffin.”


Victor has very good puppy eyes. They’re caught on the camera he’s holding as he’s facing a changing room mirror which Yuuri is standing in front of. Yuuri has just been trying on a shirt, but Victor has apparently managed to sneak in a floor length gown from the women’s section of the store on the floor above.


From what the camera can see of the dress, it looks long and sequin encrusted. The sequins look as though they have a matt finish, and are in a variety of rich bronze, silver and gold tones. Yuuri eyes it warily.


“Oh fine!” he says, exasperated and throwing his hands up in defeat as Victor face breaks into a delighted grin. “But we are not buying it.”


“Of course, muffin, anything you want, we can go get ice cream after this.”


Yuuri narrows his eyes suspiciously at Victor, but allows him to hand over the dress. Yuuri pushes a protesting Victor out of the changing room and firmly tugs the curtain shut. There’s a few moments in which Victor passes the time by explaining which suit cuts are currently fashionable, and the benefit of different materials for different patterns. Then —


“Okay,” Yuuri’s unsure voice comes from behind the curtain. “I’m ready.”


“Show me, show me!”


The curtain draws back.


The dress is indeed floor length, but now a high slit can be seen running up to the top of Yuuri’s thigh, exposing one long, smooth leg. The sequins are split into their three colours, the muted gold, bronze and silver making a concentric triangle shape that echoes an Art Deco influence. The sleeves are long but off the shoulder, revealing Yuuri’s delicate collarbones and strong shoulders.


Yuuri’s swept his hair back best he can without product to hold it, an imitation of how he sometimes wears it for performances. He’s not wearing any makeup, but the dark sweep of his eyelashes is devastating, and there’s a light bloom of a blush across his cheekbones, his lips nibbled to the point it looks as though he’s wearing a delicate pink lipstick.


Yuuri looks shy and unsure of himself, smoothing his hands over the dress where it sits on his hips. Victor’s expression is caught in the mirror behind him. He looks dumbstruck.


The Katsu fandom are busy signing a shared suicide pact in the comments.


“Well say something!” Yuuri says after a few long moments of silence. “I look like a pig in a dress don’t I?”


“Oh, moya zvezda.”


The rumble of Victor’s voice, the way his accent’s gotten stronger and his tone deeper, makes Yuuri’s hands pause their worried movements. Victor stands, and sweeps over to Yuuri. The camera, though it’s listing slightly to the side as Victor’s distracted, still catches the molten hot look in Victor’s eyes as he looms over Yuuri.


Yuuri’s face isn’t in shot, just a little of his bare shoulder in the bottom of the frame as Victor’s drawn near. But it’s clear from the way his posture relaxes in the mirror, his back loosening and his head tipping back in silent supplication, that he’s reassured by Victor’s reaction.


“Words are not sufficient to describe what you look like right now.”


A tremor seems to run through Yuuri’s frame at both the words and the tone of Victor’s voice. He tilts his head to the side, and though his expression isn’t visible, it’s clear from his posture and his tone of voice that he’s playing coy.


“No? I never thought I’d see the day when Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov ran out of words.”


“You’ve struck me dumb, my love. I wish to have a portrait of you commissioned because perhaps art will do justice to the masterpiece that is you.”


Yuuri giggles, and pushes Victor back a step, shaking his head as his face comes into shot.


“You exaggerate.”


“I assure you I do not. We’re buying that dress.”


Yuuri opens his mouth to protest, then seems to actually think about it for a moment. He studies Victor’s expression, which is looking almost primal in its need in the mirror, then nods slowly.




Victor kisses him soundly.


Yuuri shrieks when he sees Victor’s uploaded the video to the NikBitch channel, knowing there’s a heavy insinuation that they fucked after it was taken. Victor points out that basically all of YouTube knows how kinky they are thanks to Phichit’s and Victor’s efforts, with no small input from Yuuri himself, and that this pales in comparison. Yuuri groans but agrees.



“Okay so,” Victor says, filming himself as he walks, a scarf wrapped close around his neck and a furry parka hood pulled up over his head. “Phichit has forced me out into the freezing Russian winter because apparently ‘I’m going to be so grateful to him I’ll name our firstborn Phichit”


Victor rolls his eyes at this but he’s smiling.


“The likelihood of that happening is exactly zero, because I know Yuuri wants a Japanese name at least for the first one.”


The comments have a meltdown at the announcement that Victor and Yuuri have discussed having children together.


Victor grumbles most of the way to the studio, which is apparently where Phichit’s told him to come, but he does get some pretty shots of the snow blanketed city as he goes. Victor wrenches the studio door open when he arrives and marches into the warmth of the foyer. The decor is all very modern, cement floors and white walls, industrial looking pipes left on display on the low ceiling.


The receptionist clearly knows him, and waves Victor through with a smile. Victor sheds his scarf and coat as he goes, his cheeks and the tip of his nose painted pink with cold.


As he walks up a corridor lined with doors, music can be heard coming from the various rooms. But Victor clearly knows where he’s going, and reaches a door at the end of the corridor and slowly opens it.


The door leads to a dance studio, the wall on the left nothing but mirrors. Phichit is sat on the cement floor in front of the mirrors, grinning as he catches sight of Victor. In the middle of the floor is Yuuri. And a chair.


Beyonce’s Partition is playing over the speakers built into the ceiling, and Yuuri moves to the explicitly sexy beat. He sits in the chair and leans back, one hand gripping the back of the chair and the other trailing its fingertips up his stomach, his chest, his neck, coming to a stop over his mouth as Yuuri bites his finger playfully and sits up. Then he stands, rolls his hips and grabs the chair to flip it around and settle back down onto it now sitting backwards, his legs split around the back.


His legs are clearly visible through the clinging work out leggings, which are black and high waisted. The curve of his back is tragic beneath the black slash neck crop top Victor wore for their pole dancing lesson. And Yuuri’s in heels.


Victor lets out a low whimper, which isn’t heard by Yuuri over the music. The door is behind Yuuri in the left wall, so it’s not visible to him or the mirrors. Which is good, because this way Victor and the viewers have an uninterrupted view of Yuuri dragging his hands over his body, before kicking a leg up, flinging it over the chair to join the other, standing, and then dropping into a split.


Victor nearly gives himself away by choking, but luckily Yuuri is too busy sweeping his leg round so he can crawl forward across the floor as the lyrics switch to French, his back arched beautifully and shoulders rolling like a predator stalking its prey. Yuuri stops, pushes himself almost flat and his pops his butt back in time with the beat.


Victor collapses against the door jam.


This finally seems to get Yuuri’s attention, making him snap out of where he was pulling himself up onto his knees and looking over to see Victor filming.


“Vitya!” he says, eyes going wide. “No, this routine isn’t ready!”


“Oh muffin,” Victor says, taking this as invitation to step forward into the studio. “If it gets any better it’s going to start causing casualties.”


Yuuri blushes at the insinuation that he’s hot enough to do bodily harm to his viewers and husband.


“Still…” he says, looking unsure. “I don’t think I want it on YouTube at all.”


Victor strides over to him and drops down to pepper kisses all over Yuuri’s flushed face.


“Vi — aha — Vitya — haha — stop!”


Yuuri’s giggling and squirming as Victor follows him to the floor as Yuuri attempts to escape his kisses. The camera work is shaky, just catching glimpses of the struggle.


Victor eventually releases Yuuri, who gives him a big kiss on the lips as a reward.


“So, Victor,” Phichit says, and the camera turns to where the Thai man is still sat against the mirrors, grinning. “I believe I’m owed a firstborn.”


“Jesus, Phich,” Yuuri says, quirking a smile at his friend. “When did you become a wicked witch?”


“I’ll have you know I’ve always been magical. But no, this is about Victor’s promise of naming your firstborn Phichit.”


“I never promised!” Victor says quickly as Yuuri turns to him with a betrayed look. “We’ll be calling our first child something Japanese because Yuuri’s moved to Russia to be with me, so you know, it’s fair.”


“If that wasn’t the cutest goddamn shit I’ve ever heard I’d be very mad right now, Nikiforov.”


“Why were you even dancing to that song, muffin?” Victor asks, angling the camera back to Yuuri, who blushes.


“Phichit is an enabler and a terrible influence,” Yuuri replies, ignoring Phichit’s squawk of protest. “Plus I… thought you might like.”


“Oh moya zvezda,” Victor rumbles, making Yuuri’s eyes go wide and then hooded as Victor scoops up one of his heeled feet. “I love it.”


Yuuri blushes, and though it’s not exactly clear from the angle as Victor’s not in shot, it’s obvious he’s laying kisses over Yuuri’s foot. This is confirmed when there’s the sound of a phone camera shutter and Yuuri squawks and scrambles to free himself from Victor, launching himself at Phichit. One of their usual tussles follows, Yuuri managing to pin Phichit as usual. That is until Phichit hooks one of his feet over Yuuri’s, traps it, and rolls them both.


“What the —?”


“As hot as it is when you pin me, my little monkey, I can only let you win so many times before I learnt some tips,” Phichit says, grinning down at Yuuri as he pins his wrists.


“I can see what Chris means,” Victor mutters from behind the camera. “This is pretty awesome.”


Yuuri turns his head to glare at his husband.


Phichit makes the mistake of relaxing his guard, sitting back far enough that Yuuri can hoist his legs up, wrap them around Phichit’s neck, and push back down. Phichit falls back with a yelp, helpless against Yuuri’s thigh strength. Yuuri’s wiggles free and steps daintily over Phichit in his heels, brushing himself down.


Victor lets out a sound like a dying animal.



Mila sends Victor the compilation video which has a stream of comments screaming about how gone Victor is for his husband. Victor simply likes a few of them and watches the fandom have a meltdown.